


Go Your Own Way

by EffieA



Series: (Ravager) Family Dynamics [3]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Post-Movie: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-01 07:09:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12151350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffieA/pseuds/EffieA
Summary: And you thought your last family reunion was uncomfortable.Peter reunites with Stakar after the events of GotG vol. 2.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You can go your own way  
> Go your own way  
> You can call it  
> Another lonely day
> 
> Fleetwood Mac, "Go Your Own Way"

“OK, buddy, this part goes here,” Peter says trying to keep his attention focused on showing Groot how to re-assemble a plasma rifle and not on the words coming out of Gamora’s mouth. “You’ve got to make sure it clicks into place or it might not properly engage. It could even backfire, and believe me, you do not want that. I saw someone lose an eye that way.”

“I’m just saying that it might be healthier for you to answer his next call. Have a conversation and take it from there,” she continues despite his best efforts at obstruction.

Rocket scoffs. “While _I’m_ saying it might be healthier for all of us. He’s got 99 Ravager factions behind him. What happens if he loses his patience and decides to wipe us out?” He says as he clears a spot on the messy tabletop for his bowl of food.

“I don’t think that’s very likely.” Gamora says with an irritated glance at Rocket. “But you should think about talking to him, Peter.”

“I have thought about it! And I really don’t want to discuss it right now. We’ll be jumping to Amalind soon so everyone needs to decide if they’re going down or not,” he says as he stands up and heads out the door of the third quadrant’s small canteen.

“I am Groot?” The child points expectedly at the abandoned rifle.

“We’ll finish up later.”

“I _am_ Groot.”

“I don’t know what you just said but I’m pretty sure it was backtalk.”

“Yep,” says Rocket through a mouth full of porridge.

Peter finds Kraglin in the engine room doing some repairs on the cooling system. He stands for a while in the doorway and watches with a strange feeling of nostalgia. This was the kind of work Kraglin did every day when Peter was new to the Eclector. The Xandarian had been assigned to the kitchen when he first joined up and had moved to working on the ship’s various systems before being promoted to repairing and maintaining M-ships and then eventually to the bridge. Kraglin and Peter had been at each other’s throats on and off since the latter’s arrival but in those early days they’d formed a kind of bond due to being at the very bottom of the pecking order. Their relationship now is… different. It isn’t strained like it had been in the last few years leading up to the orb incident but it was definitely kind of awkward. They were each grieving in their own ways and attempting to adjust to the new dynamic. 

“Hey, you gonna keep standin’ there or are you gonna give me a hand?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. What do you need?” Peter walks over to the Ravager and his cluttered toolbox.

“Pliers.”

“These green ones?”

“Yeah. Can you hold this steady for me?”

They work together for a while and when Kraglin’s satisfied he stands up and stretches his back. “Did ya need something, Quill?”

“Oh, yeah. Are you planning on going planetside when we get to Amalind?”

“Hadn’t thought about it. Why d’ya ask?”

“Well. I- Maybe we could go down and get a drink or something?”

Kraglin looks him over. “What about your friends? Ain’t they comin’?”

“I just need some space. Gamora wouldn’t like it if I went alone, though.” I want to feel like a Ravager again, he doesn’t say. He doesn’t regret his new life as a Guardian but sometimes he craves the past, the familiar.

Kraglin gives him a thin smile. “Sure, Pete.”

By the time they dock the _Milano_ and make arrangements to meet back up with the others, it’s already dark and the entertainment district is crawling with locals and tourists. The bar they end up in is offering all their beer on tap for half price so it’s crowded and Peter would really prefer to go elsewhere but Kraglin is as cheap as ever and won’t hear of it. They end up at a large table with two Rainer freighter pilots who won’t stop making out and a group of four freelance mercenaries.They drink mostly without talking because the noise level in the room makes having a conversation almost impossible. That suits Peter just fine.

__

It's a few hours later after the Rainers have finally gone off to get a room and the noise in the establishment has died down a bit that one of the mercs, a short and stocky Contraxian, tries to start up a conversation. “Ravagers, huh? Not sure I could do it. Y'all have to follow too many orders and a whole bunch of crazy rules. And your captain gets to take a cut from all your jobs, ain’t that right?”

__

“Tha’s true,” Kraglin says, leaning back and crossing his arms. Peter expects him to jump at the opportunity for a drunken argument but instead the Xandarian gives him a pointed look. “It’s not so bad, though, huh?”

__

“Er, yeah. Right,” Peter says, but he feels like he’s missing something.

__

“Anyways, Cap’n, shouldn’t we be getting back? The crew’ll be wondering where we’s got to.” Peter stares. Kraglin pushing him out of his chair would have given him less of a shock, especially because that’s actually happened a few times, though not since Peter got bigger than him. Sure, Kraglin has called him “captain” a few times since the funeral but it was always either sarcastic or affectionately jokey. This was his first mate voice and the tone he’d used on the _Eclector_. The tone he used with Yondu. Peter is trying to figure out how to respond when he notices that Kraglin is slightly but distinctly pointing his head in the direction of the mercenary to his left, a lizard-like person with a hand reaching into their coat. This planet is a booming Xandarian outpost and it's trying its best to be reputable; this bar and most of the others here have a strict “no weapons” policy. They’d reluctantly checked theirs at the door, though Peter suspects that Kraglin has a few knives hidden in harder to reach places. It doesn’t look like these guys have followed suit.

__

“You tryin’ to order me around, Obfonteri?” He asks with a scowl and bared teeth. His voice is loud and harsh enough that some of the other patrons turn to watch the scene.

__

Peter catches a glimpse of what might be pain on Kraglin’s face before he answers. “Of course not, boss, it’s just that-”

__

“C’mon, we’re going.” The only way to avoid whatever is about to happen is to make a fast exit.

__

“But that’s what I was jus-” Kraglin doesn’t offer any resistance when Peter grabs him roughly by the arm and pulls him out of his seat. It’s too late. The blaster hits Kraglin first and Peter tries to jump out of the way of the armed mercenary but not in time to avoid getting shot. The bar erupts in panic and terrified customers rush to the doors. In the middle of the chaos, Peter falls backward and hits the floor but the blast isn’t enough to make him completely pass out.

__

“What the hell, Mykor?! You didn’t say he was a Ravager captain!”

__

“That wasn’t in the posting. C’mon, before anyone shows up. We just gotta drag ‘em out the door and Reygana will pick us up with the ship. You guys grab the skinny one.”

__

“We’re takin’ him too?”

__

“Might as well. Maybe they’ll give us something for him.” The Contraxian notices Peter struggling to get up so he nudges the reptilian. “Stun that one again.”

__

***

__

Peter wakes up in a pool of vomit, which goes nicely with his pounding head and a general feeling of nausea. He sits up but he’s not sure if he’s ready to stand yet. Well, those guys were obviously told to take them alive so that’s something. Kraglin is a few feet away so Peter crawls over and looks him over and checks his pulse. He’s still out but he seems OK. Peter looks around. They’re obviously on a ship because he can feel the gentle rumble of the engines through the floor. The carpeted floor. What the hell? There’s a door in front of him and one to the left. There’s not much in the small room except a desk and a few chairs but it’s definitely a room and not a cell. Either these are the nicest bounty hunters in existence or something weird is going on. He wonders if they’ve already been delivered, but there’s no way they’re being held by Kree purists or even the Sovereign. They haven’t even been restrained! He isn’t able to consider it any further, though, because the door slides open with a whirring sound. He looks up at their captor with a glare. “I should have known.”

__

Stakar’s hair has gone gray but otherwise he looks the same as Peter remembers even down to the uniform. He examines Peter with a frown. “You’re a mess.”

__

“That’s pretty rich coming from an elderly guy wearing glow sticks. Sorry about your carpet, by the way. Why do you even have carpet?”

__

“It’s been how many years and that’s what you want to talk about?”

__

“Nah, I’d rather talk about why getting kidnapped by Ravagers is apparently still a thing that can happen to me.”

__

"We could've avoided this if you would have just answered my calls," Captain Ogord says, shaking his head.

__

“Ergh… Cap’n…” Kraglin mumbles as he wakes up and rolls over.

__

Peter turns to look at him. “Hey, Kraglin. How you feelin’?”

__

“Oh, Pete, I thought you was th- Wait, is that-?”

__

“I’m going to leave you two to get cleaned up. There’s a bathroom through there. Don’t wonder off,” he says, pointing a finger at them as the door whirs shut. Peter hears the distinct sound of a lock engage.

__

“How can we wonder off?! You just locked us in!” Peter stands up slowly, using the wall for stability. _“A-hole.”_

__


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up making this three chapters instead of two because I'm still messing around a bit with the ending. The last part should be up tomorrow and Stakar and Peter will finally get to have their big talk.

Peter looks at his long leather coat. He’d washed it as he well as he could in the shower but now it’s soaking wet so he leaves it hanging in the bathroom connected to the room they’re being held in. His trousers, t-shirt and short, red biker-style jacket are not exactly clean, but they’re better than nothing, and even going naked would be preferable to the navy-blue nylon and leather uniform he’d found neatly folded on top of the desk. He’d examine it long enough to see that it was exactly his size and then he’d shoved the whole thing into the waste basket. Kraglin had noticed when he got out of the shower (he’d actually volunteered to bathe first, which must mean that seeing Ogord must have really shaken him up) and for a moment it looked he was about to say something, but he’d kept his mouth shut and pulled on his own jumpsuit which was really no worse than it ever was, especially since the Xandarian had managed to retain the contents of his stomach. He gets dressed quickly and when he exits the bathroom he sees Kraglin running his fingers through his wet hair in the mirror.

“So. What do you think he wants?” Peter asks.

“I dunno.” Kraglin turns around to look at him. “I reckon you should’ve answered his calls, though, like he says.”

“Oh, well, thanks for that, Sherlock Holmes. I would have never figured that part out. It hadn’t occurred to me that he’d put a bounty on us, you know!”

Kraglin just looks thoughtful. “Yeah, that was a bit surprising. He’s gotta have a reason for it, though.” 

“Maybe the reason is that he’s an old jerk who’s used to getting his own way all the time,” Peter says as he sits down to pull on his boots.

He gets a frown at that. “You should try to show some respect, Pete. I know Cap’n Stakar weren’t never your commander, but you know… the funeral and the colors and all…”

Peter scrunches up his nose, which was a hallmark of his prepubescent self, who seemed to make that face at everything from work assignments to the food in the mess hall. “Yeah, I get it. I’m grateful. Really,” he says as he leans back in his chair. “I’m just not sure if I’d ready for this dude to mess around in my life, you know?” Kraglin nods slowly. “And anyway,” Peter continues “maybe if you’d have told me to answer Ogord, I would’ve. Not guaranteeing it or anything, but I’d have considered it more.”

Kraglin raises his eyebrows. “Oh yeah, why?”

“Well, that’s part of your job, isn’t it? Advising about stuff. Suggesting things.”

“I ain’t a first mate anymore.”

“Uh, of course you are,” he replies. He remembers the time before the other’s promotion but, in Peter’s mind, “first mate” was as much a part of Kraglin’s personality as it was his job description. Yondu, the _Eclector_ and the crew may all be gone but there must be some things that won’t change. Can’t change.

Kraglin looks surprised. “Yeah?”  


“Yeah,” confirms Peter. “By the way, I hope the gang back on the quadrant isn’t freaking out too much.”

“They’ll be assuming the worst if they ain’t heard from Stakar. They must’ve taken our comms when they grabbed us.”

“I guess I’ll have to ask him about that.”

"Just try an’ be civil,” Kraglin says, but with a look that says he’s not counting on it.

There’s a loud knock and the door slides open. This time it’s two unknown crew members facing them, one is of average height and yellow-skinned with blue hair and the other is taller and covered in pale pink fur. “Captain wants to see you,” the yellow guy says with a sneer. They tell Peter and Kraglin to head left down the wide corridor and they walk a few paces behind. Both blue-clad Ravagers are heavily armed but their weapons aren’t drawn. Peter takes the opportunity to look around the ship as they walk. At least the floors and walls out here are metal, though they’re definitely cleaner and less rusted than those on the _Eclector_. He’s pulled out of his thoughts by low voices behind him.

“…found them completely wasted in some shit bar… some hero.”

“Nah, just another loser.”

Peter bites his lip. It’s not worth picking a fight with their armed escort. They’re hardly the first people to say stuff like that about him, and he knows they’re not exactly wrong. He’s done plenty of things that aren’t heroic. He notices Kraglin snarl and start to turn around just in time to grab him by the arm and pull him close. “Krags!” Peter says as he starts walking a bit faster to put some distance between them and Stakar’s men. “What were you thinking? You’re the one who said we should be civil!”

“I meant to Stakar. And they wasn’t being civil.”

“OK, but they ain’t worth it. Let’s just focus on getting back home.”

“Yeah. OK, Pete.” Kraglin shakes himself free of his grip. When Peter glances back at their escort he sees them eyeing him warily. Well, that was weird. Since when did Kraglin jump in when someone insulted Peter? Since never, that’s when. He can’t consider it any further, though, because they’ve reached a large open area filled with various kinds of cargo. Stakar is over in a corner, talking to a Slig and gesturing with a data pad. He notices them.

“Ah, there you are,” the captain says. He frowns at Peter. “I thought I had some clean clothes left out for you.”

“The last time I wore one of your uniforms I was given cleaning shifts for six weeks and I had to “earn back” the right to wear my jacket so thanks but no thanks, man.”

Kraglin snorts. “The boss never did buy your “found it in a junk shop” story.”

“I believe you told me you’d deserted,” Stakar says.

“Because I was surrounded by a group of people with guns who looked like they wanted to kill me and dump my body in a ditch!” Peter looks behind him. Their yellow-skinned guard is there, leaning against a stack of boxes and Peter backs up a bit so they’re within a few feet of each other.

Stakar smiles. “That’s true enough, I suppose. All right, c’mon, the two of us have some things to discuss. Mr Obfonteri can stay with Bryken and Xava,” he says indicating the two that had brought them there.

"OK,” is what Peter says but what he does is slam the left side of his body into the yellow guy (“Xava,” apparently). While Xava’s trying to regain his balance, Peter grabs the Ravager’s gun and points it at his head. “Right, so, this is all me and Krags had nothing to do with it so…” but when he glances to his right he sees Kraglin putting a knife to Bryken’s throat. “Um, never mind, I guess scratch that part.” Damn, the guy is fast or maybe he had guessed what Peter was about to do?

Stakar is staring, his face unreadable. The Slig has pulled a blaster and has it pointed at Kraglin but he’s looking at Stakar with uncertainty.

“Quill! You gotta cover me!” Kraglin’s pointing his head toward the way they’d come in. It’s an open doorway with retractable doors and there are control panels on either side.

“All right.” Peter pulls Xava close and puts the gun against his head. “Anyone fires at Kraglin or me and I kill this guy!”

“You wouldn’t,” Stakar spits out.

“You don’t really know that, do you?” Peter says.

“Peter, c’mon!” Kraglin’s at the door controls.

Peter drags his hostage toward the doors as Kraglin activates them. When he’s close he pushes the guy forward and ducks under. Kraglin grabs him and pulls him flat against the wall and then forward to the closest turn as blaster fire shoots under the lowering door.

“Fire, but only stun!” Stakar shouts from the other side of the doors.

“Seriously, Captain?!”

“You heard me!”

When they get to the corner they hunch over and catch their breath. Luckily, no one is around. “We got to hurry, I set those doors to emergency lock but it’ll only take them a few minutes to override,” Kraglin says. Then as he stands up he leans over and smacks Peter upside the head, hard. “And what the hell was that? You overgrown brat!”

“Ow! Hey! I wasn’t planning on dragging you into it.”

Kraglin shakes his head. “Didn’t really have a choice, did I? We gotta keep goin’ if we’re gonna have a chance.” He starts walking down the corridor and Peter follow.

“What do you mean you didn't have a choice? Wait, do you actually think we have a chance?”

“Oh, hell no.”

They’re passing crew members now but they’re only getting slightly odd looks. They keep making turns every chance they get. Peter wonders why Stakar hasn’t sent a mass comm message out. He must be trying to avoid that for some reason. Peter takes his jacket off and balls it up under his arm. He’s regretting not putting on that blue uniform now. Kraglin follows by unzipping his jumpsuit down to where it’s belted and tying the sleeves around his waist, revealing a nondescript t-shirt underneath.

The next person they pass is a woman with an officer’s badge. “Hey, who are you guys?”

“Um, well,” begins Peter.

“Are you new?”

“Yeah, tha’s right,” answers Kraglin.

“Well, you should come with me and see Martinex. I just saw him around here." Oh, that’s not a good idea. Peter looks at Kraglin nervously but before they can come up with a plan a voice calls out behind them.

“Is someone asking for me?” It’s been years, but Peter recognizes the voice.

“Oh, hi, Martinex, these are new recruits and they-”

The Pluvian has already drawn his blaster. It seems like the captain messaged him, at the very least. “Drop your weapons.”

“Uh, sir, are you OK?”

“Let me handle this, Loris. Please comm for the captain.” Peter drops his stolen firearm while Kraglin sets his knife on the floor.

“Hey, buddy! Marty, isn’t it? That’s kind of an old man name.”

“Peter Quill.” Stakar’s first mate doesn’t seem thrilled to see them. “Kraglin Obfonteri.”

Peter tries again. “Yep, that’s right. Maybe we can talk-”

“Sit against the wall. Over there.” He’s glaring at Kraglin. “I remember you. We spent some time talking on your ship many years ago. At the time, I thought you were clever, but your judgment is obviously lacking.”

“Yeah, probably,” Kraglin concedes. He looks like he’s going to say more when another voice booms through the hallway.

“You’ve got them!” Stakar stomps over, followed by a group of gun-toting crew members. face is red. He goes immediately for Peter and pulls him up by his shirt. “You are being over-the-top stupid, boy! You’re going to end up getting yourself or others killed.”

“OK, chill out, Rambo. I get it.”

“What should we do with them, boss?” That comes from Xava, who’s looking particularly pissed off.

Stakar and Martinex exchange a glance and Peter gets the feeling that they’re having an entire conversation. He’s seen Yondu and Kraglin do much the same.

“Brig,” the captain says with a shake of his head. “And check them thoroughly for weapons this time because that obviously didn't happen before.”

“But before you said they were guests and not prisoners,” someone says.

“Well, they’re prisoners now,” he says sharply. “Actually, check them here before you take them away.” He watches as they’re searched. They find three more knives are on Kraglin as well as one Yaka arrow. Stakar holds it carefully. “I’ll put it somewhere safe,” he says.

Kraglin nods then pounds his chest in salute. “Cap’n Stakar.”

The search of Peter is less fruitful, resulting in the retrieval of some gambling receipts, a few food wrappers and a bronze flame medallion. Stakar grabs the latter and flips it over in his hand a few times before tossing it back to Peter. “You can hold onto that.” Peter shoves it into a pocket but doesn't say anything.

“OK, get them out of my sight.” Martinex nods at two crew members and wrist restraints are slapped onto Peter and Kraglin.

“Should they be restrained in the cell, Captain?”

Stakar seems to consider it. “No, but keep an eye on them. I want them checked on regularly.”

“Is this supposed to intimidate me or something?” Peter shouts as they’re dragged away. “You think I haven’t been thrown in the brig before? This is pretty much how I spent my 13th birthday!”

Kraglin tries to crane his neck around to look at Peter. “Thirteen? Was that the thing with Tullk’s M-ship?”

“Horuz’s M-ship, and no. It was the supply room fire.”

“Oof, yeah, you deserved that.”

“In hindsight, yeah, probably.”

“You deserve this too,” says the Ravager pulling him forward.

“Yeah, probably.”


	3. Chapter 3

“I cannot believe you locked them up!”

Peter wakes up on a cold floor to the sound of a woman shouting, which certainly isn’t a new experience for him. He doesn’t recognize the voice, though, and it’s much too deep and gravelly to be Gamora’s. He opens his eyes. Kraglin is already awake, sitting on the cell’s one bench listening to the conversation. Whoever is speaking is around the corner and just out of sight.

“It was 100% necessary. You’d understand if you’d been there,” says Stakar’s voice. Peter sits up. Kraglin looks at him and gestures at him to keep quiet.

“I don’t need to have been there to know that you were clearly the wrong person to handle this! You said that he’d be more receptive since you’ve met each other before.”

“I thought that would be the case. Obviously, I underestimated just how stubborn and unpredictable this kid can be.”

“That’s not shocking, though, is it? Given the circumstances and his… unconventional up-bringing. Anyway, this is just typical for you, isn’t it? You always escalate everything!” The woman says, raising her voice again.

“I swear, that’s not-”

“But you do! Even with the children. You’d always-”

“Oh, you do not want to go there, Leta.” Stakar’s voice, which had sounded tired and pleading before, is icy cold.

“Tha- that’s not what I was-”

“Nah, it really were Peter this time!” Kraglin yells out. A head comes into view.

“Oh, you’re awake! Stakar, they’re awake.”

“Not surprising, with you shouting like that.” Stakar follows her, one hand massaging his temples.

The woman who approaches the cell has dark uncombed hair and a green and black outfit that looks more like a combat uniform than the sort of thing favored by Yondu and Stakar. She’s smiling at Peter but he’s too busy glaring at Kraglin to really pay attention. “What the hell, Krags?”

“You were the one what kicked things off, Pete.”

‘Yeah, but you didn’t have to admit it.”

“Ah. Well, sorry, Cap’n,” Kraglin says, with a not very apologetic-looking smile. Stakar and the woman exchange glances.

“Aleta, meet Peter Quill. Quill, this is Aleta Ogord. My wife.” Stakar says, turning to Peter.

“Ex-wife,” she says with a sharp look in his direction.

Stakar looks like he’d rather not have this particular conversation right then. “We never actually made that official. I’d say it was more of a trial separation.”

“It’s been nearly 30 years!”

“You’re the one who left,” Stakar says, shaking his head. “I never wanted it to play out like that.”

“Well, maybe if you had actually acted like you wanted to be part of a team we could’ve kept ours going.”

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you, Mrs Ogord.” Peter isn’t sure what else to say. It feels like watching one of his mom’s soaps, if the characters had worn skintight leather and casually carried around heavy weaponry.

Stakar blanches, but Aleta’s face breaks into a huge, terrifying grin. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me that before. Actually, Ogord was my name before it was his.”

“Uh, really? OK, then.” Peter manages.

“I’m the captain of the _Mirabi_ , but you can call me Aleta. Yondu always did.”

He isn’t sure how to respond to that. “Right, sure.”

She turns to her husband. “You gonna let them go or will I have to pull something from his playbook,” she says, with a glance toward Peter.

Stakar seems genuinely disturbed by the prospect. “Please, no.” He unlocks the door with a wave of his thumb.

Kraglin stretches and gets up. “Thanks. Sorry about the trouble. He gets like that sometimes,” he says, ignoring Peter’s dirty look.

“Kraglin Obfonteri,” Aleta says. “I remember you. Didn’t you used to bring us drinks when we had meetings on the _Eclector_?”

“Yeah, tha’s right.”

“You didn’t look like much, but I could tell you were sharp. I knew you had potential. By the way, I think there a few other people here you might know.”

“Martinex, for one,” Kraglin says, one corner of his mouth twitching a little.

“Ah, yes, it seems he’s in bed with a headache. But Ventiiru, Aderif and Plesiq are still around. Oh, and Frilo and Hasina from my crew. Maybe you’d like to come and have a drink and catch up a bit?”

Kraglin looks at Peter. “Uh, yeah, go ahead.” Eventually he’d have to figure out what’s going on with Kraglin. Since they got here it was like he was acting normal half the time and then the other half he’s treating Peter like… Well, it’s really too much to think about just now. It can wait until they get off this stupid, excessively awesome ship.

“All right, let’s go have some fun. See you around soon, Peter Quill.” She turns to Stakar. “Later, darling.”

Stakar nods. Peter thinks he looks disproportionately pleased at the endearment.

“Uh, see ya, Aleta. Have fun, Kraglin,” Peter says.

“Here, catch.” He turns around just in time to catch the comm Stakar tosses at him. “You should call your crew. I think they might be worried.”

“No shit. I wonder why that would be?”

Stakar shrugs. “I’m just sayin’ that having a famous assassin sending non-stop threatening transmissions is starting to affect the bridge crew’s morale.”

“Former assassin, but yeah, I can see that. I wash dishes like 20% more often now that she and her sword are around.”

Peter’s call to the quadrant contains about as many exclamations of “told you so” as he was expecting but their relief is palpable. He hangs up with a promise to call back later. 

“C’mon, my office is this way.”

“Hey, so. About before. I may have overreacted. Just a little, I mean, seeing as you did kidnap us and ruin shore leave. But yeah.”

Stakar snorts. “Well, it helps to know Yondu had to deal with your antics for more than 20 years.”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

“Thirteenth birthday in the brig, huh?”

“I may have accidently set some supplies on fire,” Peter explains.

Stakar swipes them into a good-sized room decorated in dark hues. It contains a carved wooden desk and a few matching chairs and a couple leather sofas. And there’s that carpet again. “That doesn’t sound like a big deal,” he says.

“Four thousand units worth.”

“ _What?!_ Forget the brig, he could’ve spaced you!”

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg, really. When I was fifteen I got on my own M-ship and-”

Stakar raises a palm. “Stop, I don’t wanna hear any more. I have plenty of nightmares already, thanks.” He sinks into his desk chair and reaches for a bottle of beige liquid while Peter takes the seat opposite.

“Whoa, that’s top shelf stuff, dude. Sirian, right? Nice.”

“I guess you two deserved each other. But still, a kid in that environment...” Stakar continues as he pulls two glasses out of a drawer.

“He did alright. Well, considering. I spent years being resentful and I had some extremely valid points, but I also didn’t see the big picture. Not until, well, you know.” It felt strange to voice it like out loud like that. He’d talked about Yondu a few times to the other Guardians since giving his eulogy at the funeral, but mostly in form of sharing old stories. This was different and hits him that those feelings are still raw.

Stakar is shaking his head. “It takes more than just good intentions to raise a child.”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“Even from the beginning, Yondu was greedy, selfish, reckless-”

“Hey, watch it, you’re talking about the guy who literally gave his life for me,” Peter feels himself tense up.

Starkar is standing now. “Just totally and completely unqualified to-” The bottle slips out of his hand and careens to the floor, spilling its contents on the rug.

“Dude!” But as Peter stands up, fingers gripping the edge of the desk, he realizes that Stakar is staring past him as if he wasn’t even there.

“How is it that Yondu got to see you grow up? To see you be a goddamn hero,” he emphasizes the last word and all Peter sees in his eyes is a cloud of fury and pain.

“Um, what? Hey, are you-”

“Why is it that he got to die for his kid? And I wasn’t even there when mine were... I was half a galaxy away.”

“Whoa, Stakar…” He takes a step around the desk and grabs the older man’s arm and to his surprise, he isn’t shoved away.

“Aleta blames me. She’ll deny it now, but she always has. Honestly, I blame myself.” His voice is shaking just enough to be noticeable.

“Hey, I don’t know what happened but-”

Stakar looks at him again, finally, and the anger seems to vanish as quickly as it had arrived. The man in front of him just looks tired and resigned, but he also has a thin smile on his face. “Well, I can’t say I regret meeting you.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“All right, let’s get down to business. Sit.” Stakar walks over to a sofa and sits. He’s back to being nonchalant and controlled as if the last few minutes hadn’t happened.

“Maybe you should take some time or something-”

Stakar responds to that with a piercing glare so familiar Peter half expects the man’s mouth to form a whistle. “Right. That’s a no, then.”

“First things first,” Stakar says before activating his comm and speaking into it. “Hey Aleta, could you send up Martinex and Kraglin? Yeah, to my office. Nice try, but Pluvians don’t get migraines and Marty knows I know that. Great, thanks,” he says before looking at the spilt bottle of Sirian cream liquor. “Oh, wait, tell him to bring a bottle of something good up.”

“Why do we need Kraglin and Martinex? I didn’t get the feeling they were great terms.”

Stakar ignores that. “So those bounty hunters who brought you two in said you were a Ravager captain, something I find pretty interesting.”

Peter laughs. “No need to get all bent out of shape because of that! It was just a strategy on Kraglin’s part because he realized they were gonna get the jump on us. Tried to throw them off, or something.”

“Well, at least we know it’s believable, to that caliber of people, anyway.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“There are bounties and warrants out for you and your friends. Real ones.”

“I’m aware of that, man.” Peter sighs, wondering why this guy wants to discuss something that can’t be solved. The only thing they can do is be careful and stay one step ahead of their enemies.

“The Kree purists, the Sovereign-”

“I _know_.”

“Bounty hunters and mercenaries all over galaxy are looking for you.”

“Aw c’mon, just because those guys managed to grab two of us this one time. As a group, with all of us working together, we’re-”

“Those guys were nothing. Amateurs, really. But Ravagers, we’re the best and we’ve got the resources to you down if we so wish.”

Peter narrows his eyes. “So? It’s not like you will-”

“Me? No. And neither will Aleta or the rest of our old gang. We’re working together again now, anyway. Your safe from us and our crews.”

“I feel a “but” coming…”

“But I don’t speak for the other captains. They have autonomy over the jobs they take. I can’t tell them not go after you.”

“Right, fine. Couldn’t you have said that in a message or something?”

Stakar frowns. “Is it possible for you to shut up for one minute? Just once?”

“Rude, but OK, I’ll try.”

“The thing is, we can’t go after each other. It’s in our code.”

“Yeah, but- wait.”

“What I’m saying is-” Stakar is cut off by the door sliding open.

“Captain? We’re coming in.”

Martinex walks in holding a tall, skinny bottle filled with purple liquid and followed closely by Kraglin. He glares at the bottle on the floor and cocks his head toward Peter. “That better not have been him! That cost more than 300 units.”

“Nah, Marty, it was me. And it’s not like we bought it.”

“Still.”

“I was just explaining our plan.”

“I maintain my objections,” his first mate says.

Stakar sighs. “Everyone else agrees, though, so you’re out voted.”

Kraglin looks from Peter to Stakar. “What plan?”

“He wants to make us one of his official Ravager factions. That’s it, right?”

“That’s right.”

For a second Peter thinks Kraglin might faint. “Peter, you-”

“Don’t have a heart attack, I’m going to accept,” he says. “But, and I cannot emphasize this enough, you definitely can’t say anything about it to Gamora and if she finds out, we deny everything and blame them.” He waves his hand toward Stakar and Martinex.

“It mostly just needs to be an official thing. You’ll be free to continue doing whatever it is you do-”

“Mostly security jobs we get ripped off on,” Kraglin says, leaning against the back of the sofa behind Peter.

“It’s called helping people out, Krags.”

Stakar picks up a data pad. “OK, then. It’s settled. What’s you ship’s name?

Peter shrugs. “It’s the _Eclector’s_ third quadrant.”

“OK, the _Quadrant_ , then.” He hands the pad to Peter and Kraglin reads over his shoulder. Under the ship it reads _Peter Quill, Captain_ and _Kraglin Obfonteri, First Mate._   “Here, put in the rest of your people. I’m not sure of all their names.”

Peter nods and starts typing. He gets as far as Drax, Gamora and Rocket when Kraglin flicks him on the side of the head. “Hey! You can’t put Groot on there, he’s just a kid!”

“Seriously?! I can’t believe that just came from someone who taught a nine-year-old to knife fight.”

“Only ‘cause you kept askin’. It was getting annoying.”

Peter looks over at Stakar. “Now you see why I have issues?” He finishes and hands it back. “All right. Can we go now?”

“What, already?”

“Yeah, the others will be annoyed enough as it is,” he says, “but we could meet up again sometime. I dunno, if you want.”

Stakar rolls his eyes. “OK, go then. I’ll comm for someone to meet you in the hangar and give you a ride to your ship,” he says as Peter gets up and grabs the bottle Martinex brought in. “Hey, what the hell?”

“You missed a lot of birthdays, man.”

“Oh fine, whatever,” Stakar leans back as Martinex shakes his head.

Kraglin gives the Ravager salute on his way out and taps Peter on the shoulder. “Hey, Pete, you should-”

Stakar dismisses that with a wave of his hand. “I wasn’t expecting it.” But Peter pushes the bottle into Kraglin’s arms and thumps his chest twice, quickly.

“Thanks for the booze. See you around, you crazy old man.”

“See ya, kid.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is set about four months after the second movie.


End file.
